Impractical Fantasies
by Literary Bitca
Summary: A scene expansion from 3x04 The Djinn, written as a one-shot for a prompt. Angsty, introspective. Lizzington.


Disclaimer: Not mine! I don't own, I'm not associated, and I don't make money from this.

Author's Note: This is in response to a prompt I got from tumblr user judgementonjanus, asking for a missing scene from The Djinn. Really, this is more of an expansion on an existing one.

...:::...

"What _is_ your fantasy?" Reddington asked, his voice low. Liz dismissed the uncomfortable look on his face, instead concentrating on the image that immediately popped into her mind's eye.

Taking a moment before answering the question, Liz flipped absently through the costumes hanging beside her on the rack and selected a long dress. "It's been the same thing for as long as I can remember," she began, turning the dress around to hold it against her. "I'm walking in the park with my husband. In between us is our little girl. I'm holding her hand in mine… and I never let go." Liz realized her story was naive, but in the midst of all the extreme and terrible things that were happening in her life, she wanted the ridiculousness of that walk in the park even more now. The logical part of her brain told her holding on to a little girl's hand was not something that could be sustained: that little girl would grow up. She'd have to let go sometime. Wishing to exist forever in a snapshot in time just wasn't feasible. She should be realistic, and wish for something attainable.

When Liz looked back up at Reddington, the wistful smile she had on her face froze before quickly melting away. She regretted being so honest with her answer; the expression on Reddington's face looked like a man who had voluntarily submitted to verbal evisceration. How masochistic of him, Liz thought, thinking of the uncomfortable look he'd given her as he'd asked the question. Why would he ask a question that would-?

As she replaced the dress on the rack, Liz let her hand fall from the soft, musty fabric as it occurred to her that Reddington couldn't have known she'd bring up a daughter. He knew she'd lied about her fantasy, but he hadn't known exactly what it was until she'd described it. She was sure of that.

So how did he know her answer would be painful to listen to? He'd looked about as apprehensive as a man about to stick his hand into open flame when he'd asked her what her real fantasy was. Why did he look gutted at the prospect of hearing what she wanted? Her answer could have been any number of things.

Hoping to ferret out the reason, Liz turned back toward Reddington with a contrite look on her face. "I'm sorry—I don't know why, but I forget sometimes...everything you lost. Everything you...gave up. Here I am describing not wanting to let go of a little girl I'll probably never have, and you—you actually had to _make_ that choice."

Reddington dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head dismissively. "My actions over twenty years ago have no bearing on what you want from your life, Lizzy. If that's truly the one thing you yearn for, more than anything, when you close your eyes… My previous choices shouldn't make you apologize for your fantasy. In fact, you should realize I'm in the perfect position to understand why it appeals to you."

"What's _your_ fantasy?" Liz asked, walking over to what she had started viewing as Her Spot on the sofa.

Reddington huffed a small laugh and shook his head again, his expression suddenly amused. "Whereas yours is within the realm of possibility, there's no point in discussing mine," he said.

"Why not?" Trying to keep him smiling, Liz lowered her voice and pressed, teasing, "Do you want a pet unicorn? No— _dragon_. You'd want a dragon."

"We have a lot to do tonight, and we should really begin preparing for—"

"Oh, come on," Liz interrupted, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she'd shared so openly. "I told you mine," she pointed out.

Reddington studied Liz's face for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he were searching for something. Finally he gave a small, sad smile, and said softly, "As soon as Man invents time travel, I promise we can discuss what I want."

Liz's fantasy was naive, and Reddington felt the urge to chastise her for choosing such a silly thing to wish for. _That scenario isn't necessarily a happy one, Lizzy. You could be walking in a cold park, with an abusive husband, trapped in a loveless marriage by the child between you…_

With a hard swallow, Reddington considered his fantasies. He had so many, and would be satisfied with any of them… vague as they were. Having the power to make different decisions in 1990. Dealing with the events surrounding the night of the fire differently. Never getting married, never bringing a child into the world. All of those scenarios, he figured, would have saved him quite a bit of personal heartache, not to mention the anguish he put his wife and daughter through.

But mostly… he wished the woman in front of him would see him differently. He wished he could have entered her life in some other capacity, so that they might have a better working relationship at the very least, and the possibility of…

But of course, he didn't deserve that. What was the point of wishing for something he couldn't have? He couldn't even manage to shoehorn himself into _her_ fantasy: even if they managed to clear her name, he'd never be able to do the same for himself, not after 25 years of bad behavior and criminal acts. Even if he could give Lizzy her life back, _his_ life would always be too dangerous to be able to take a calm walk in the park with her and a little girl.

Their little girl.

He didn't want more children. As much as he loved the woman sitting on the sofa in front of him, he didn't want a daughter with her. Knowing what he did about the world they lived in, and how abnormal a life someone would have if they tried to spend it with him, how could he bring a child into this terrible world, with no hope for a normal or happy future? They were currently hiding in a theatre, with no home and no friends. The government wanted to imprison them, and countless criminals wanted to see them dead. He would never bring a child into this nonsense. Who in their right mind would? Not only would it be unfair to the child, but it would be another weakness, another potential target to blackmail him with. Another victim of the violence that was so often his life.

He'd had a family. That part of his life was well and truly over now, and here was the woman he loved, admitting _that very thing_ was the one fantasy she longed for more than anything else in the world.

Reddington was snapped out of his reverie by his phone buzzing, and he dropped his gaze to the screen as he pulled it from his pocket. Perfect. He didn't want any possibility of this conversation continuing right now, and this was as believable a distraction as he could hope for.

"Thanks to your shoe switcheroo, apparently we have an address for the Djinn..."

...:::...


End file.
